Part II: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

Lake Havasu

Today is November 22, Mark's Birthday. He would have been 42.

It was early April and I was knee deep in preparations for my Senior Cabaret at Cal State Fullerton. I had just mastered my new favorite song that I would be adding to my set list, "Watching the Big Parade Go By" and couldn't wait to sing it for someone.

I raced home, burst through my parent's front door with cassette tape in hand, snapped it into our family stereo, and demanded their attention as I serenaded them with my high belting excitement...

 I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. I got the feeling that they didn't want to hear my song.
Something was off... something didn't feel right...

An awkward silence took over the room. My Mother held up the news article and gently told me: Mark was in a terrible boat accident at Lake Havasu a few days ago. He’s missing.

The next thing I knew, I was in a ball with my arms wrapped around my knees, hysterically crying. I was shaken by the sounds that were coming out of me. I was a howling wolf.
I knew he was gone.

I was in final rehearsals for Hair.
When I returned to the theater, all 40 cast mates, crew and creative team surrounded me with the most unbelievable amount of love and support. Mark was a Theatre student as well, so a good majority of students and faculty had their own stake in the sadness and worry.

I noticed that the Dean of our department, Sally Mitchell, had taped memos on the hallway walls, notifying any passerby that Mark Chotiner, a student here in the Theatre Department, has died.
My reaction: Pure anger. He’s not dead. He’s MISSSING.

I knocked on her door, she invited me in with sympathetic eyes that I just wanted to rip out of their sockets and shove down her throat.
Trying to keep it together, but ready to explode: Sally, with all due respect, I’m upset that you taped up those notes saying that Mark is dead. Regardless if he’s dead or alive, why on earth would you do that? He is missing, not DEAD. Please have some respect for Mark, and myself, and take down those notices right now. RIGHT NOW???
She apologized and assured me that they’d be thrown out.
Have some class, Sally.

I was a mess. Mark, my ex-boyfriend, my first love, the guy I bitched at just a week ago, was missing, and I knew in my heart that he had died. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was shaken awake by the image of his hair floating in the water as his body descends to the bottom of the river.

Spring Break is over. Lake Havasu is shut down while Search and Rescue flies overhead and dives into the waters, looking for Mayor of La Mirada, Bob Chotiner’s son, Mark Chotiner, who was last seen on the lake a few days ago, a news reporter says on the nightly news as a photo of Mark appears in the top left corner of the screen. Half of my face was in that photo. It was a picture of Mark and me hugging.

It all felt so unreal, like I was in a movie. This cannot be happening to me. My photo is on TV and Mark is the topic of the evening news and I think I just lost my soul mate and I don’t know how I am going to live through this, I want to die too.  

The conversation I had with Dean Sally about the death notices didn’t seem to be a priority to her since she made no effort to abide by my wishes, which was a mistake I am sure she regretted when I startled her by bursting thru her fancy office doors, fists full of crumpled up notices, screaming, “TAKE THESE FUCKING NOTES DOWN NOW, SALLY! DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FUCKING RESPECT FOR HIM? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? HE’S MISSING, NOT DEAD!” I may have felt like a wolf when I was crying, but I was a bear when I yelled.

Stay tuned for Part III …

Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

My first love was Mark David Chotiner.

I was 19 years old when I found my lips intertwined with his on the night we met. 

First year of college.

Cal State Fullerton. 

I was at my brother’s fraternity, the Phi Sig house, being dumped by Jon, a guy I dated for 2 months. After we had agreed to remain friends, which surprisingly came true, I met my friend Nikki on the sidewalk...

What happened?

He dumped me.

Are you ok?

Yeah. I guess.

What do you want to do now?

Hum….I looked over at the Lambda Chi house… lets go over there, I heard those guys were cool!

Nikki and I walked over and invited ourselves in.  Mark was the first person I met. God he was gorgeous. He looked like Brad Pitt.

After a few beers, Mark said to me…

You want to see my turtle?

We headed up to his room and he showed me his fish tank with the water turtle. As the night progressed and Lucky Lagers were pounded (that eventually became our favorite beer because of the silly riddles on the inside of the caps), I found myself totally making out with this hot guy with cute surfer hair and super yummy lips who’s name was MARK! He was such a good kisser. It was all pretty innocent.

Later that night, my best friend Steph picked me up. As I climbed into Steph's car, Mark stood there shirtless with the garage door open, one arm up holding onto the edge of the door. His surfer body, six pack abs and loose fitting jeans made Steph and I melt! She wrote something on a napkin, handed it to him and then we drove away.

If you want to have a good time, call my friend Theresa. She thinks you’re cute. 714-637-….

Seven painstaking days went buy until he called. This was before the days of texting, so I had to actually wait for my land line to ring.

What started out as a random rebound make-out session at the Lambda Chi house turned into a beautiful romance that changed my life forever. I guess that’s what happens when cupid’s arrow hits the bull's eye.

We were both students in the Theatre Department. I was majoring in Musical Theatre and he was Set Design. We were that stereotypical, ridiculously cute/nasuauting couple on campus who could not keep their hands off of each other.  People hated and loved us for our sugary, sickening public displays of affection.  Needless to say, we were in love and the entire Theatre Department knew it.

Almost every day after our morning classes, we would meet on the Performing Arts lawn at Cal State Fullterton, but it wasn’t just any old meeting. I’d come running out of the PA building, while he was barreling out of the Arts building across the way, and we’d run to each other with open arms screaming “Baber!!!!!” He’d sweep me off my feet and twirl me around and shower me with kisses. This happened pretty much every day for about a year. I was 19, he was 24, we were both acting like children and it was wonderful.

Not too many people can say that they have experienced that kind of love. I'm glad I did at that young age. I'm not the same person anymore and if someone wanted to act like that with me now, I'd probably tell them to grow up.

Mark was my first real boyfriend and my first love.

I am one of the lucky ones who get to cherish the night I lost my virginity.

The nuns in Catholic School tried to intimidate us into believing that it's a terrible sin to have sex before marriage, but I wasn't convinced. The 12 year old Theresa said to herself, "Nah, I'm going to wait till I'm in love and I think God will be fine with that."
I truly did wait and it was worth it.

It was March 24^th, 1993 at lifeguard station 19 in Huntington Beach. We built a bon fire, made s’mores, drank our Lucky Lager and played Black Crows on our portable stereo, snuggled under the blankets and made love. He actually cried.

Mark and I had so much fun together. Camping in Mexico, Havasu, and Big Sur; going to museums and theatre; parties and hanging out on campus; holidays and birthdays; day dreaming of our wedding and naming our future children (Ashton and Clayton. Geeze we were such hippies!!)

After he graduated from college, he moved to Los Angeles and started pursing set building for commercials. I was still a student juggling 20 units, shows and a job.

I was furious when Mark broke up with me. He wept like a baby and told me that I’m too busy for him and gave me the ridiculous “If you love someone, set them free” speech. My argument was that he needed to suck it up and let me be busy for a while and that I’m not asking to be set free. I reminded him that this is the same reason why he broke up with me last time and that he needs to let me have some personal space to do the things I am passionate about, much like how I’ve given him his personal time to do his hobbies. Regardless, he broke up with me, again, and I walked away completely pissed off.  I loved him, but we had some serious problems: his infidelity, possessiveness and jealousy, and my independence, stubbornness and free spirited life.
Our love for each other would not be enough to make the relationship last. I moved on, with a sad heart, but nevertheless, I was able to let him go.

Six months went by with no communication.

Then one night, as I was in rehearsals for the musical Hair in the Theatre Department, I saw Mark walk by the doorway of the rehearsal room. He backed up, reappeared and waved at me. I thought “What is he doing on campus?” I lost my breath. It was as if I saw a ghost and I wanted to burst out crying. The beautiful memories of our time together came flooding back and my heart was so confused.  I was filled with a longing to be with Mark again, yet logically I knew it’d never work. How will I ever be able to shake him? My friend sitting next to me grabbed my hand and said “Oh my God! Mark!” I sat there stunned.  Later that night he called me at 3am, obviously drunk.

Hey…. Whats up?...

I was so annoyed that he woke me up so late and that he was the typical ex-boyfriend drunk dialing me. That's no way to win me back.

What do you mean “WHAT'S UP????”

I was such a bitch to him.

What are you doing?

I’m SLEEPING Mark… it’s 3am, I’m in rehearsals and studying for finals…GET A LIFE!

Then I hung up.

A week later I got the news that Mark had been at Lake Havasu for Spring Break and that there had been a terrible boat accident. 

Mark was missing. 

Stay tuned for Part II …

Video Store Sad Girl

(First written in May 2011. I'm very much over this guy now, but I wanted to post this story anyway)

My face has become all too familiar to the guys at the local video store and what’s worse is that I’m usually there on the weekends.

If you were the clerk ringing up the cute, and obviously sad, girl renting Blue Valentine and saying “If there’s a guy’s name on my account, will you please take him off?” What would you think?
Girl broke up with boyfriend and now she’s alone, renting movies. 
Bingo! 

Recently she’s been renting more than one movie.The Fighter AND Winters Bone on a Friday night. Alert, alert. Girl is hunkering down this weekend with a batch of intense rentals. What is going on with her? Where are her friends? Why isn’t she dating? And why is she wearing that same bandanna on her head again?

Is love even out there for me or did I miss the boat entirely? My parents are unconsciously blatant about it as well.

Perhaps this is why I am "Video Store Sad Girl": On our way to my goddaughter’s baptism (the closest I’ve gotten to having my own children), my Mom fondly looked over to my Dad and said “Oh Al, our LAST grandchild. Our LAST baptism.  Ohh! This is it!”  From the back seat I meekly said “Um, hello??? I’m still fertile back here.”

It only took two days of quality time with my married friends, their children, my family and all of their children, and my best friend’s daughter’s birthday party where I was the only person there who was single and childless, to break down and bawl hysterically in solitude.

One of the moms came up to me and said, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party!". I think she was referring to the over sugared/hyper children who could be potentially annoying to someone like me, but what I heard was, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party given the fact that you are yearning for children and a husband of your own. Doesn't it just kill you to see all this love and not be a part of it?" Man, I was on the verge of tears. Then a friend of mine distracted me with, "I just love reading all about your fabulous life on Facebook! I wish I was still single and free!"

To mend my Video Store Sad Girl heart, I opened up my Facebook Notes and referred to my article "On this Side of the Fence", which did me little good. I was unconsoleable.

Maybe it was a bad weekend to be spending most of my time with children. I'm nearing the end of my fertility, at the apex of my sexual prime and my biological alarm clock is screaming in my face. Shit, 7 years ago my Gynecologist looked up through my legs, while in the midst of my yearly exam, and told me to hurry up and start having babies before it's too late.

Note to self: Stay far away from adorable children when ovulating.
Other Note to self: Return videos.

 

That's Winter, my Goddaughter, my parent's LAST grandchild.

Girls Night Out Meets Boys Night Out

Have you ever had those nights when you just don’t feel like going out, but everybody else does?  

I’ve never really been a big fan of gender-exclusive outings, mostly because I have more fun flirting with guy friends that I know vs. guys I don’t know, but regardless, there I was nudging myself to participate in Girls Night at Pioneer Bar in New York City.

As I dragged my feet up to the door, kicking and screaming for my male companions, I flung myself into the mayhem of an overcrowded bar buzzing with hot guys and well dressed women and immediately regretted my rebellious choice in clothing – jeans and a tee-shirt. Girls Night requires cute shoes, a short dress, tousled hair and fun jewelry.  This was going to be a long night of feeling like a Freshman at Senior Prom, so I ordered myself a beer and parked my bootie on a bench, accepting my fate of wallflowering.  

The obnoxious deafening sound of 100 competing conversations reverberating off of the high ceilings and concrete floors muted when our eyes met.

I rarely find myself attracted or interested in anyone and that night was not the night for romance – I was not prepared to meet the hottest guy in the bar who wanted to talk to me nor did I fathom that anyone would even notice the wallpaper that was I; but our eyes were locked on each other as I painted on my make-up, dabbed on perfume and shaved my legs in my imagination.

Damn it Finney!! You KNOW you always meet cute guys when you look like shit! You should have at least swapped out your lip balm for your lipstick this time.  Fine if you don’t want to get dolled up, but have an emergency kit in your purse... PLEASE!

Thank god I’m an actor. I can just act like I’m looking good. No need to apologize for my disheveled mess as I toss back beers by myself in the corner.  I’m cool. 

He and his group of guy friends were sitting at the table next to me and my group of girlfriends. Oh how cute – girl at Girls Night Out meets boy at Boys Night Out. My friends all had their backs turned to me, talking to whatever peope had their interest, and his buddies were all busy flirting with some gals on their end, so that left just he and I, looking at each other.  

Our conversation continued on through the whole night. The entire world blurred into the background as he and I sat there, crystal clear, having an exciting conversation about our lives, the world, our families... Everything you can think of that was super cool to talk about, we covered it.  

That sparkle in his eyes that told me “Oh my god, I just met someone!” was thrilling. I abandoned my crappy beer and upgraded to cocktails, the embarrassing plain-Jane look I was sporting didn’t seem to bother me anymore, I felt like the most beautiful girl there. His name was Mitch.  (Does that ruin it? The name Mitch doesn’t really send tingles to my toes, but regardless, that was his name.)

After about two hours of this Love-At-First-Sight experience, me meeting his friends, him meeting my friends, our friends meeting each other and etc., he excused himself to the bar and asked what I’d like to drink.  The moment he was gone, Tim, his best friend, pulled me aside.

Theresa, I know this is going to sound weird, we all love you and think you are beautiful, but we are all standing over there totally jealous and pissed off.

 What?

Mitch is engaged, Theresa. In fact, we are all out tonight celebrating his engagement.  And it just pisses us all off that the ONE person in our group who is actually NOT available is the one talking to you. Blow him off and come talk to us!

At this point, I’ve turned a bright shade of red and my acid reflux has already burned a permanent hole in my throat.   It was at that very moment that I realized that Love-At-First-Sight is a load of crizzap. 

He returned with my Jack & Ginger, and the fact that my fury had melted the ice in my cocktail before I even took it from him was his indication that something went awry while he was gone being such a gentlemen at the bar buying me a drink. I wish I could say that I threw both Jack AND Ginger in his face, but I was so paralyzed with anger and embarrassment that all I could do was stand there like a deer in the headlights wondering why my beverage was hot.

My anger causes me to go numb at times and at that moment, when my world spun out of control, you could have hit me over the head with a friggen skillet and I would not have reacted. 

Congratulations

Huh? 

Congratulations on your engagement, Mitch. I’m so happy for you.

He launched into a diatribe of babble but all I could hear was my made up version of his nonsense “I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake”. 

My reaction to his excuses that I could not hear thru the angry white noise in my ears was a blank Bambi stare.

Theresa – I swear to GOD I am NOT engaged! Tim said that to you to win you over. He LIED! Dude, Theresa, seriously… Tim’s just pissed off because he wanted you to like HIM. I promise you, Theresa. I promise you... Why would I talk to you all night like that if I were engaged? I’m not engaged. Please believe me.

Bambi may be cute, but Bambi ain’t dumb.

Fine, if you’re not engaged, then meet me outside in 5 minutes. I’m going to get a cab and take you home with me.  

Bambi knows how to call a wolf’s bluff.

I walked outside feeling destroyed, stood on the sidewalk and hailed a cab. I turned around to find him standing on the top step of the bar stoop, unable to put that next foot forward which would prove my fears wrong. Apologies for me and fear for his unhappy future flickered in his eyes. 

And there was my answer.

I climbed into the cab.

7^th and Union in Park Slope Please? .... YES that’s Brooklyn! Get over it!

Please Release the Curse

I have said I love you to six people in my lifetime, but I’ve only really been in love once. I’m not proud of that.

I feel that I have taken the word Love in vain too many times and perhaps I jinxed myself in ever truly falling in love again. Since I’m still single, I hypothesize that Aphrodite has cursed me, in punishment of taking the word Love so lightly.

Dear Goddess of Love,

Please release the curse.

I humbly kneel before you, pleading for this spell to vanish. I admit my shortcomings. I fall in love to easily. I am easily wooed. At times I have been a push over and have said those precious words to the wrong people. To the people I did not truly have those feelings for but was hopeful that I eventually would. Or I was afraid to hurt them if I didn’t say it back. Or maybe I was just plain dumb and went along with it. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who took “Love” so carelessly, but I am, Aphrodite, I am... I WAS. I am not that girl anymore and I cross my heart that my past mistakes will never be repeated.

• Brad: I was 16 years old and he was just playin’ me. I think it was more infatuation and less love, so honestly I don’t think, Aphrodite, that you should be punishing me for this one.  

• Brain: I said “I love you” too soon in our relationship, and I’m sorry for that. But he never loved me anyways. He told me so when he dumped my ass, don’t you remember? “I never loved you anyways, Theresa. I only said it because you said it to me.” He did a nice job in making me feel worthless, but nevertheless, he had a knack for that. I was an aspiring Broadway actress in New York City, which he didn’t like, and he told me “I hope your dreams quietly die”. Why on earth did I say I loved him?

• Dominick: he was psycho and that’s my fault for getting involved with someone so cookoo. Who says “I love you” on the first date? Psychos do. There is no reason why I shouldn’t be punished and cursed for this mistake.

• Brahim: When will I learn that I need to get past the puppy love stage first before tossing around the word “Love”? He, like Dominick, was crazy enough to say he loved me within the first week we were dating, and I was nuts enough to go along with it. He was mysterious and exotic at first, but come on, those warning signs of him being jealous, stubborn, rude and filled with rage were there from the start. I just ignored them because he was hot.

• Mike: saying “I love you” while not really meaning it, and saying it too soon can lead to disaster and this case proves my point. Once again, this guy, like Dominick and Brahim, pounced on me with those forbidden words the day after we first kissed. I’m not shocked that I’ve been cursed, Aphrodite, because after all, this was the worst kind of love I’ve ever lied about being in. I ignored all the red flags, I jumped into a relationship, I was blind to all of his baggage. Heck I even LIVED with this one. What on earth was I thinking? Yes he was initially my friend, he was romantic and deep, but he also never took me seriously, he was a loser with no money, no steady job, no bank account, no driver’s license, and he was a raging alcoholic who eventually got me robbed. By the time I dumped him, he owed me EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS. I relinquish you of your obligation to punish me for this doozie because I have punished myself enough already.

Aph, I’m not saying that I do not deserve a little punishment. But let’s not forget the one beautiful guy I was truly in love with and whom I didn’t take the word Love in vain with.

• Mark: My first love. Romantic, affectionate, giving, artist who I loved so very much.  I was only 19, and our love may have been immature and carefree, but that was a beautiful time in my life and I will always cherish those memories.

So, Ahpy, please lift this curse and let me find that special person that I know is out there looking for me. If you do me this favor, I promise I will never say I Love You ever again to any guy, ever…unless I’m saying it to the man I know I will marry.

Your humble servant,

Theresa

 

 P.S. Thank you for letting me have some affection!

Tales of Indecent Exposures

I have had my fair share of strange and surprising penis sightings in my life.

It all started in Italy when I was 21.

Not sure why nasty old Italian men find it necessary to jack-off in broad daylight while actually TRYING to get my attention, but there I was with my long blond hair in the midst of darker skinned foreigners, sticking out like a sore thumb, being the perfect target for every pervert that graced the sidewalks, park benches and bus stops of Florence, Italy.

At first I was appalled by such indecency. Embarrassed, offended, creeped out… but it became less of a shock and more of an expectation during my 3 week vacation that my friends and I actually started to seek these predators out. All we had to do was either listen for a snickering and light slapping sound, or see some rapid arm movement in our periphery and we’d barricade those nasty bastards with cameras in hand, laughing hysterically. Our cackling and pointing at their johnsons flopping about always made them tuck and zip. Guess they didn’t like that.

My conclusion that only disgusting Italian men in Florence wank-off  to unsuspecting American college girls was proven wrong when I  arrived home and was blasted by the same offence here! Right Here, in Orange County, California. In the affluent neighborhood of Villa Park! I was driving out of my parent’s cul-de-sac, stopped at the stop sign, when some guy in a huge truck drove by me,  noticed me, lifted his pelvis high enough for me to see him holding up his frankfurter and screamed “YYYEEEAAHH!” out of his window.

Whaaa??? Oh boy.

I knew my days of tally-whacker watching were not over when I moved to New York City.

I figured this is the city to see some good wedding tackle.

They’ve got a lot of park benches and alleys, the underground subway is probably a magnet for some good joystick handlers, and since the city is a sea of 3 million pedestrians the occasional perv can probably she-bop completely naked and no one would notice. The world was my Oyster!

It’s unfortunate that I did not have my camera with me when I was at the gym that fateful Friday night. The Cardinal rule for one-eyed trouser snake watching is to always be armed with a camera and I failed miserably. To this day I still regret my haste when I over looked the Cannon Power Shot when packing my gym bag.

With the hopes of working off all the Ben and Jerry’s  I had inhaled the night before while wailing on the phone to my Mom about the audacity of my boyfriend Brian to dump me and say he never loved me in the first place, I hauled my fat ass over to the only available treadmill and started to jog.


It was an odd place for a treadmill to be since it was kind of off to the side and in a weird little nook.

I had nothing to entertain myself while jogging, just the view of the sidewalk on the other side of the window.  As I was working out, the image of someone standing outside started to appear. I had to focus my eyes since it was brighter in the gym than it was out there. After a few moments, it was clear that some guy was standing there staring at me. Just standing there, a mere 3 feet away from where I was. The only thing separating him from me was the floor to ceiling window.

I thought, “Seriously? I can't just jog in peace without some ass hole staring at me?” I tried to make very aggressive eye contact with him, like “Dude, GO AWAY”, but I noticed that his eyes were not on me, they were directed upwards. I followed his gaze and realized there was a TV hanging above me. “OH! The game is on. He’s watching the game.”

No.  Not entirely.

There was a strange movement going on at waist level.  I re-focused my eyes and peered. A woman, who seemed like his girlfriend, was standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder but facing the other way (probably to keep a look-out) and multi-tasking with a backwards monkey slap while getting in some one-armed tricep kickbacks for herself.

I felt compelled to continue jogging and watching his baloney pony as it bopped to and fro in her hand, waiting for the “outcome”.

I was horrified and yet intrigued.

"I cannot believe this is happening right in front of my face! Is anyone else noticing this?" I looked left, I looked right. I was all alone in this experience. Just me and the obviously kinky couple standing under their umbrella mere feet away from me.

"This gym is pretty well lit. They obviously know that I'm working out right here. Why did they pick this particular spot right in front of ME? I don't get it!"

But I kept watching.. and watching... becoming more and more nauseated.

I kept telling myself, “Look away! You’re going to see it come out! His heat-seeking love missile is going to launch and you’re going witness it!  Look away, lassie, look away!!”, yet my eyes refused to comply.

Then, POW!  At approximately 30 miles per hour the triumphant moment happened.  Like water in a pressurized hose being released, his home made yogurt burst forth from his glory hole with untamed vigor.

Weird that the couple seemed totally unfazed by it. Just pump pump, spew spew, fold and button, and they were off as if it was a nightly ritual, stepping over the cloudy white puddle on their way to his grandmother’s house probably.

All the blood rushed out of my face
My legs started to give way
My stomach did a triple back flip
I stumbled off the treadmill as the conveyor belt kept turning
I ran to the water fountain
Dry heaved over the little drain while making a spectacle of myself
Sipped some water
Sat down
Then cried like a traumatized four year old girl

Sex and the Eharmony

It’s been one month since joining Eharmony and I’ve weeded through about 600 guys.

Cute guys like this do not exist on Eharmony.

I’m becoming more and more weirded-out by on-line dating and I am curious about some things.

   1. Why do guys not realize that blacking out their friends eyes in their profile photos is just plain creepy?

   2. If you’re not going to look a little deeper and answer the profile questions with some intelligence, why are you paying $50 a month to be on the site?

Example
Question: What are a few things that you cannot survive without?
Answer: Air Water Shelter
Really? Wow guy! We have so much in common. I cannot live without air and water either! Let’s meet for coffee and discuss!

   3. Am I prude to be disinterested in anyone who mentions sex on their profile?

Even mentioning it once is bad enough, but multiple times just horrifies me.
I understand that some guys may have been in sexless marriages and they now think that most women aren’t into it, but when he says that he must be with a partner who likes having sex on a weekly basis, and that he must be with someone who is comfortable exploring his sexuality with compassion and understanding, that just grosses me out.

What exactly do I need to be compassionate and understanding about? I’m picturing him on a sex swing wearing some kind of mask. He’s probably a skirt chaser who can’t take his hand off my ass when we are in public.

All sorts of crude images of us doing weird things pop into my head and I quickly “close” him.

Example
Question: What are a few things that you cannot survive without?
Answer: Great Sex
Delete

In my opinion, mentioning sex on your profile is like talking about your sexuality with a complete stranger in person.

Would a guy really walk up to me at a party and within the first 2 minutes tell me that he must be with a partner who likes having “Great Sex”?  Well, maybe. Recently I met a guy at a bar in New York who told me, after hello, that he has 4 gray pubic hairs.  So, yes, there are guys out there who have no filter, but in any case: Delete.

Am I being too selective?

Perhaps I need to realize that most men are sexually conscious and that maybe I’m reading too far into their innocent comments about needing sex?

I really don’t see the point in choosing “I cannot live with a sexually inactive partner” as a line item on my Can’t Stands list. Eharmony only lets you pick a few Must Haves and Can't Stands, and they give you about 100 items to choose from. I just safely assume that most people do want sex and if I were to fall in love, we would be up all night with our hands all over each other.

In my heart, there are far more important deal breakers than sex, especially since I only get to choose a few from the website's list. So when a guy chooses more than one item referring to sex, I think “Wow, so out of that plethora of core life values and morals to choose from, what you’re telling me is that you are a horn dog.” Is that a safe assumption?